


This Ain't Back in the Day

by WriteItSmall (scribblemyname)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Asgardian Mead, Cliche Comment Ficathon, Community: be_compromised, F/M, Fluff, Humor, In Vino Veritas, Modern Dating Techniques, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Wingman!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 13:04:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2310605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemyname/pseuds/WriteItSmall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve had fielded his third request for a date from an altogether modern female unconcerned with his chivalric tales of 'back in the day' within the last twenty-four hours, and the whole thing got wearying, but Natasha looked as though she were attempting to exorcise a decade perhaps, not a bad week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Ain't Back in the Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crazy4Orcas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazy4Orcas/gifts).



> Prompt by crazy4orcas: [One of my favorites to see subverted is the "Clint fell for Natasha first" cliche. Give me all the fic where Natasha falls first, has to deal with the emotional repercussions, and then pursues Clint. :)](http://be-compromised.livejournal.com/419151.html?thread=8209487#t8209487)

"Back in the day," Steve reminisced over his third round of Asgardian mead, "men courted women, not the other way around."  
  
"Yes," Natasha hissed with what sounded like personal affront. She'd been buried in the stuff since Thor brought it back, but this was the first Steve cast a truly disturbed eye at his friend's dark glower. "Back in the day," she growled before a slew of low cuss words in Russian.  
  
Steve had fielded his third request for a date from an altogether modern female unconcerned with his chivalric tales of 'back in the day' within the last twenty-four hours, and the whole thing got wearying, but Natasha looked as though she were attempting to exorcise a decade perhaps, not a bad week.  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?" Steve asked. He pulled over the mead to refill his glass.  
  
Natasha spat something else out in Russian before shaking her head violently. "Barton wouldn't know how to court if I ordered him to with a bulleted list."  
  
Steve hadn't realized he needed to stop drinking before he asked such a loaded question (Natasha sometimes _would_ talk about her feelings when prodded), and the table wore most of the mead Steve had been swallowing. "Uh..."  
  
"I swear, I have been beautiful and beguiling and all but dragged him off in the night," she ranted feelingly, "and he has never once asked me out. I gave him the hypothetical and he thought I wanted to get _you_ to ask me out. As if." She snorted.  
  
Steve felt a little dazed.  
  
"You'd be easy." She patted his arm. "That's a good thing." Her eyes narrowed. She sipped her mead. "I'll drag him away in the night."  
  
"Why not ask him out?" Steve fell back on the hated modernism, feeling it safer than what Natasha was proposing.  
  
She glared at him. "It is beneath me."  
  
"Let me talk to him then."  
  
She glared at him, then looked thoughtful, then downed some more mead and nodded. "All right, Steve. One week to civilize Hawkeye." Then she shot him that rare, genuine smile of amusement that told him he was doomed.


End file.
